


Kiss & Cry

by alphabetscoups



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Fisting, And Seungcheol is quite..., Angst, Biting, Did I mention angst, Don't get distracted by the smut, Eventual Smut, Flexible Boys, Hints of S/M, Ice Skating AU, Interesting as well., Jicheol, M/M, Rimming, Romance, Smut, Spanking, jihoon's ass is just getting the works guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabetscoups/pseuds/alphabetscoups
Summary: Seungcheol wanted to get his hands on that body, and he knew exactly how to do it. | Jicheol Ice Skating AU!





	1. Professional? Pshhht, No!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Havokftw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Havokftw/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter summary: gay

Seungcheol knew this place like the back of his hand; every brick in the wall, every scratch on the glass, every kink in the ice. He’d spent his life here, after all. Most skaters do. The ins and outs of this place were his home, and he had seen just about everything that it had to offer, from the shitty nacho machine in the lobby to the broken pair of size 6 blades that Jeonghan rented to his bitchier customers.

And the regulars—Seungcheol knew them, too. There was a woman, Pinky, if he recalled correctly; she always brought a whole slew of rowdy children who did nothing but wipe snot on the glass, and push each other down. Then there was Chan, a teenaged boy who seemed only to come during Jeonghan’s shift at the counter. Seokmin and Soonyoung, an obnoxiously _excited_ pair, though if Seungcheol admitted, they made decent skaters. Last but not least, there was Minghao. He was on the quieter side, but boy, that kid knew his shit. Seungcheol was baffled at first to see him pull off an actual fucking flip, only to realize later on that the boy was in a junior pairs skating team.

He thought he had seen it all, but the sight before him was definitely not familiar; a shorter blond with incredible form, and not to mention, a good figure. His pert little ass tucked into a pair of black leggings, his toned calves split far apart, and his shoulders splayed broadly in an open stance. There was something delicate about it, though, too. The way his fingers dipped, curled, fanned as he curled his arm in for a combination spin, the way he seemed to float so gracefully on a single leg, the way his slender body flew through the air…it was damn _magnificent._

And his aura? _Godly._ Seungcheol would’ve said fuckable, too, but godly seemed more appropriate toward someone so skilled—someone who could apparently land a quadruple flip.

Make that two.

If Seungcheol said he wasn’t intimidated, he’d be lying; he was staring into the face of a fucking masterpiece, and coming from someone who’d won silver in the two Grand Prix Events, that meant quite a bit.

It was more than just reverence though, _god_ , it was _lust._ He wanted to bask in that Divine presence, to experience all the boy had to show for himself, and more; there was no doubt that he wanted something. The question was just how to get it.

This guy didn't seem to be a man of friendly competition, his slitted eyes and high-held chin dripping with confidence—and a hint of hostility.

Or maybe a lot.

He wouldn't be easy to approach, but Seungcheol had fixed himself on a ploy that could melt even the coldest heart, not to mention, put his hands on that glorious body.

The brunette stumbled onto the rink, his legs resembling that of a fawn, slipping and sliding beneath him. It wasn't a difficult act to pull off; Seungcheol had skated drunk before, and what he remembered of it was something like this. His feet curved this way and that, slowly but clumsily to his destination. On cue, his knees gave out, sending him sprawling ass-first in front of him—in front of Jihoon.

Jihoon jammed his toe pick into the ice as someone fell at his feet, body lurching slightly at the sudden stop. A mop of sable hair and a pair of ungloved hands were what he saw first,

And then came the smile.

That stunning, breathtaking little grin, those wide, droopy eyes and the rosy blush that painted the apples of plump cheeks. And his lips, so soft and pink, curled sheepishly upward. He wanted to bite them.

God, this man was pretty. Too pretty. And a bit familiar, too, but Jihoon couldn’t seem to pinpoint just where he’d seen this face before; maybe he simply _wanted_ to know him. And Jesus fucking _Christ,_ when the guy had lips like those, Jihoon had a hell of a reason to.

The blonde’s mind had played a lot of dirty tricks when it came to people he admittedly wouldn’t mind getting fucked by, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if the same thing were happening in this instant. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised if this entire thing were an illusion.

But then the man was speaking, his voice like a flurry, dusting Jihoon’s ears and clouding his senses. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair. Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t mean to fall on you like that.”

It took the younger a moment to collect the confidence that had just been smashed to pieces, to stiffen his shoulders and lift his chin. “Just watch where you're going next time.” He knelt just slightly, offering the other a hand.

He got a hell of a lot more than he expected when Seungcheol grasped his wrist, then slinging his other arm over Jihoon’s shoulder. The elder’s lips might have brushed Jihoon’s cheek when he hoisted himself up, but Jihoon couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he was on _fire._

Seungcheol lingered for a moment, playfully breathing against Jihoon’s ear before he drew some distance. He could feel the blonde tense under him, those crescent eyes narrowing in curiosity. _This might be more fun than he’d intended._

It took everything within Jihoon not to just grab this man and bite into him, but he figured it might be best to just _not fucking do that._. After all, he knew better than to think that way right now. “Are you alright? You didn't hurt anything, did you?”

“I'm fine! I'm just not the best skater, is all.” Seungcheol lied easily, faking another little slip just for extra measure—and extra contact. He steadied himself on Jihoon’s chest with a smile, “It’s a shame. I've always wanted to, but…”

Jihoon licked his lips, eyeing the hand on his chest. “I could…” his gaze trailed up the length of Seungcheol’s toned arm, his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, his lips. “...teach you.”

“Are you sure? I would feel bad if you had to waste time on little ol’ me.” Seungcheol batted his eyelashes as if Jihoon hadn’t already made up his mind.

“Of course. We could start right now, but I'll warn you, this isn't going to be a walk through the park. ”

“I'm more than willing.”

Jihoon pushed away from the wall, taking Seungcheol’s hands and pulling them forward, his strong grip attempting to hold the other up. His hands were soft, Jihoon noticed when the brunette’s wrist brushed his own. “You’re gonna have to learn how to stand before we do anything else, so for starters, just try to stay up while I skate. Got it?”

Seungcheol nodded, the gleam in his eyes growing more devious by the second. “Got it.”

Slowly, Jihoon pressed his toes in, pulling Seungcheol along as he went backward. Seungcheol’s legs looked slack, but it was enough to keep him standing—Jihoon went faster. “Hey—” He flashed the taller a weak smile. “What’s your name?”

Seungcheol pondered for a second. “You can call me Cheol.”

Jihoon sped up.

“Cheol? I’m Jihoon.”

And he sped up again.

Soon, Seungcheol had the perfect opportunity to take things up a notch; he shifted his weight, leg slipping out from beneath him, and knees buckling in. He was falling, his head bumping into Jihoon’s chest, and his hand into the man’s crotch. He squeezed, for just a fraction of a second, before he let himself hit the ground.

“ _Ah_ —” A startled moan escaped Jihoon’s lips, his cheeks taking on a red tint. He swore he just felt Seungcheol _squeeze_ him, but that couldn’t be right. The klutz was too busy tending to his fall. Jihoon blinked, taking another deep breath before he knelt down to help. “H-here, back on your feet.”

Seungcheol held his tongue at Jihoon’s flustered appearance, for now. Besides, there would be more to come later. He stood, locking his hands into Jihoon’s again, only to have them part.

“This time, why don’t you try sliding toward me? You might have more success that way.”

Oh, this was just _too_ easy. Seungcheol inched forward as Jihoon moved back, hungrily eyeing the hands that coaxed him. They were so delicate and pretty—they'd be even more beautiful wrapped around his cock.

“You've got it, just a little bit farther!” It came out a little more excited than Jihoon had intended, but forgive him. It's not easy to hide a hard on when you're wearing leggings.

With some incredible, backwards-ass finesse, Seungcheol dipped his ice pick into the ground, launching him—you guessed it—straight into Jihoon. But not just into him. No, that wasn't enough. Seungcheol wanted to be _on top_ of him.

He pinned Jihoon’s shoulder during the fall, situating himself over the blonde’s hips. It was perfect, except for the presence of clothing. He could feel the smaller’s length pressing firmly against his ass; it was a pleasant surprise.

“Jeez, I'm so sorry,” Seungcheol feigned, watching Jihoon’s face contort as he slid backward. His lips parted and his cheeks flushed, his eyelids trying their best not to screw shut. It was so sweet and childlike, but at the same time, so perverted and tempting. Seungcheol could've come right then and there, if it weren't for the fact that teasing was just too fun.

“Are you okay? You look like you're in pain.”

“I'm—” Jihoon swallowed, taking a shallow breath. “I'm fine! Fiiiiine, totally fine.” He couldn't tell whether he was convincing Cheol, or himself.

“If you say so.” The elder didn't budge, just sitting leisurely on Jihoon’s dick while passersby threw befuddled glances. Seungcheol had no intention of moving, though, no, he would've stayed there all night. And the next day, too. He could live there, actually, he could spend the rest of his life just reveling in the feeling of Jihoon’s member up against his.

“Ch-Cheol? Cheol. You gotta get off.” Jihoon had lost any idea of what was happening anymore, and honestly, he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be fucked or just take a nap.

Begrudgingly Seungcheol obeyed, raising his hips so Jihoon could slide out from under him. He watched as Jihoon stood, momentarily clasping his hands over his face to brush away the beads of sweat that formed on his temples.

“I think...I’m feeling a little sick, so I think I'm going to head out. Uh...we can meet again at around 7 tomorrow?”

“Sure thing!”

Jihoon could feel Seungcheol getting closer, his warm breath melting the blonde’s cheek. He was smirking, the asshole was smirking.

“I guess I'll see you later…” Boldly he grasped a handful of Jihoon’s ass. “...Ji-Ji.”


	2. Spice It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIT STARTS TO GET REAL?

Seungcheol would like to deny that he was early to the rink the next day. For the sake of his “coolness,” he'd say he got there at 7:30 and that he was fashionably late—but the slightly irritated look he got from Jeonghan at the rink’s entrance would say otherwise. 

“You'd think that after 14 years, you'd know we don't open until 6:30.” 

Seungcheol played it off as a clock malfunction. “I thought it was already 7! My clock said 7!” 

“You're actually the worst liar, you know that?” Jeonghan shook his head as he turned the key, ushering Seungcheol inside. He shrugged off his coat, eyeing the defensive expression on the elder’s face; there was only one thing that could bring him here so early. “So who did your dick radar pick up this time?” 

Seungcheol’s features lit up at the thought of his new affection, like city lights at midnight. “This guy, Jihoon. He's short, blonde, great ass—and these really nice eyes. They're so…they’re like little moons. His eyes are little moons, Jeonghan, and his face is the entire sky. He's...wow.” 

Eyes. That was a new one. Jeonghan was pretty used to hearing ass, hips, or thighs. Seungcheol had said ‘back muscles’ too, but never had he ever mentioned eyes. It was kind of sweet. The younger tossed his bag behind the front desk, with Seungcheol at his heels. “Jihoon...as in Lee Jihoon? He's going to kill you.” 

“I  _ know. _ ” The tone in Seungcheol’s voice was almost giddy. “So I guess that means you've met him. But have you seen the way he skates? He just oozes with confidence. It's insane.” 

Jeonghan shook his head, opting to take his post at the skate rental desk. “Masochist.” 

“Can't deny it.” 

“You're disgusting.” 

“Also true.” Seungcheol winked in response to the cringe Jeonghan threw his way, lips upturned in a smirk. He propped his arms on the counter, expression quickly becoming pensive. “Hey...what rink does he belong to? He's landing quads like nobody’s business.” 

The blonde eyed him curiously, an eyebrow cocked in amusement. “This one.” 

“What?” 

Jeonghan dropped the skates he was disinfecting back onto the rack, and turned to face his friend. “Seungcheol, are you telling me you've never met him before? He's been here nearly as long as you have..” 

A wave of shock had Seungcheol’s eyes widened like saucers. 16 years. He'd missed out on 16 years of Lee Jihoon, and the guy had been an arm’s length away the entire time. “You're kidding.” 

Jeonghan shook his head. “Nope. You've been competitors for years now. God, how did you not recognize each other? I knew you were an idiot, but I never thought I'd have to say the same about Jihoon.”

“I don't remember seeing him at any of the Grand Prix series…. or Worlds...or at anything, for that matter.”   


“He never qualified. He used to be pretty mediocre, but a couple years ago, he suffered an injury and took an extra season off to do some rigorous training. He's amazing now. Might even kick your ass.” 

Seungcheol couldn't find it in himself to retort. Not at a time like this! With a knowing smile, Jeonghan grabbed another pair of skates to work on. “So, who does he know you as?” 

“What?” 

The blonde chuckled a bit, shaking his head. “I'm not stupid, Seungcheol. He couldn't know you by your name, or he'd recognize you in an instant. So what'd you tell him?" 

“I'm…” A heat rose to Seungcheol’s cheeks as he realized just how bad his decision making skills were. “Cheol.” 

A bellowing laugh poured from Jeonghan’s lips, his golden locks flittering about as he threw his head back. “Holy fucking  _ shit,  _ you're still using that? Oh my god, I can't believe you actually got away with it.” 

Seungcheol furrowed his brow as he waited for Jeonghan’s laughing fit to cease, but really, he agreed. 

“Idiots. You're idiots,” Jeonghan exhaled, swallowing his amusement away. “Are there any other notes of stupidity I should be aware of?” 

“I asked him to...teach me to skate.” 

Jeonghan’s howling laughter returned in an instant, his face beet red and his chest heaving. Seungcheol felt his soul die of embarrassment and flee his body. That thing died, and took an uber straight to hell.

“This is fucking golden. It's too good, man. Too good. I'll tell you what, if you come out of this alive, I owe you fifty bucks.” 

Seungcheol could tell that it took every ounce of effort for Jeonghan to stifle his laughter. And look, he knew the plan was doomed to fail, but couldn't Jeonghan give him a chance? “I can't believe you so openly embrace the possibility of my death,” he sulked. 

“If this clusterfuck is how you're gonna go, you can bet your ass I'll embrace it.” Jeonghan burst out in laughter again, this time shooing Seungcheol away from the counter. 

It was another hour before Jihoon arrived, pushing through the doors with a yawn. There was something different about him today… something more delicate. He wasn't dressed in his usual confidence, but rather, he wore an exhausted pout, with lidded eyelids and his plump little lips ajar. His hair was disheveled, carrying remnants of slumber, each flaxen tendril entangled with a dream. Seungcheol hoped they were good ones. 

And they were, they  _ really  _ were. There was someone to hold him, someone to touch him, someone to fuck him—the memory of Seungcheol's warmth still reverberated through his veins. It was just the being awake part that was not so nice. There was too much thinking to be done. Thinking that Jihoon would rather not do. 

He rubbed his eyes, just barely catching Cheol in the blurred corners of his vision; a smile found its way to his lips, and he swore, the air turned a shade warmer. But soon the thinking was happening again, and the chill of the ice returned. 

“Jihoon? Hey, Jihoon!” The brunette waved, his hand gliding back to comb through his hair as he treaded closer.

Shit. Jihoon wasn't ready to deal with that yet. “Hi! Uh, hey—” Double shit. Seungcheol looked really polished, and Jihoon  _ definitely  _ wasn't ready to deal with  _ that _ . The red knit sweater that hugged his chest had Jihoon keening, eyes tracing every curve and contour that was etched into his frame. His thighs—god, those thick, magnificent thighs—were tucked into a pair of black jeans that perfectly outlined his hips. A cream colored scarf topped it all off, sitting snugly around his chin. He looked so broad and warm, like an evening cuddled up in front of the fireplace, complete with cookies and hot cocoa, and those really romantic, sappy Christmas tunes. 

He even  _ smelled  _ like Christmas. Like burning cedar, and cranberries, and maybe a hint of musky cologne. Jihoon felt his breath hitch as Seungcheol’s hand caressed his shoulder, that mesmerizing scent filling his senses.

“Good morning, JiJi.” The brunette’s eyes gleamed with a certain fondness that Jihoon couldn't quite put his finger on. Something between desire and sugary adoration that he wanted to wrap himself in, a blanket of affection to shield out his thoughts. 

“H…i…” 

“You alright? You look a little faint.” 

That smile made him dizzy, and the sweet husk in Seungcheol’s voice was nearly enough to sweep him right off of his feet. Wait, what did Seungcheol say? Why was he staring? Oh wow, his eyelashes were so long. Like butterfly wings. Wait, what was happening again? Jihoon shook his head, blinking twice in befuddlement. “...Huh?”

Seungcheol chuckled and cupped Jihoon’s cheek. “I asked if you were feeling okay, honey bear.” 

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I just didn’t get enough sleep!”  _ Because your damn face sent me into a fit of frustration and despair and cognitive dissonance and kept me up for half of the night. _

“Well, if you say so.” Seungcheol loomed over Jihoon, narrowing the space between them with tender touches. His hands curled around Jihoon’s waist, fingertips plucking at the small of his back. “You should go get your skates on so we can get down to  _ business. _ ” 

Jihoon wanted to melt into him, to return his embrace, to drown in anything and everything that Seungcheol had to offer. He wanted to give into those warm hands, that wicked smile, those sparkling eyes; he wanted Seungcheol. But he knew better. 

“Don’t—” Jihoon gasped, curling his fingers firmly around Seungcheol’s forearm, and willing his breath to steady. “L-look. You’re really attractive, and if I’m being honest, I really think you’d be a good fuck. But…” He stepped back, dropping his hand in the distance between them. “I just got out of a relationship, and I don’t think that’s something that I can handle right now.” 

Seungcheol froze in place; dread coiled in the pit of his stomach at Jihoon’s words. Had he really been that blind? Jeonghan was right. He was an idiot. 

“Oh.” Every ounce of life drained from his body as he continued in his stare, eyes trained on the way the blonde’s lips pulled into a tight line. Seungcheol shifted, combing a stiff hand through his hair. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have invaded your space like that.” 

“It’s fine...but maybe we just stick to skating from now on?” Jihoon could hear the hurt in Seungcheol’s voice, the regret, every mental kick that the guy was giving himself right then. And damn, now Jihoon was kicking himself, too. 

Seungcheol flashed a somber smile. “Of course. But really, you should get your skates on, JiJi.” 

“Yeah. I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't run out on me, now...aha...ahaha?” The joke Jihoon shot was a. inappropriate, and b. sounded more like a painful question than comedy. “Sorry, I'm just—I'm—skates.” Eyebrows knitted together, he shot a thumb toward the dressing room and took off before Seungcheol could respond. 

***

Things weren't too awkward, but Seungcheol kept his distance, only giving Jihoon a concerned tap every now and then when his mind would wander too far off. His brow would crease, his lip would curl between his teeth, and he seemed to forget that he was,  _ more or less,  _ supposed to be the only thing between Cheol and the ground. 

“Hey,” Seungcheol clicked his teeth, absentmindedly digging his toe pick into the ice. “I have a question for you.” 

Jihoon’s head snapped up at Cheol’s voice, but he was quickly relieved to find the man leaning safely against the wall. The elder looked pensive, curious, if maybe a bit worried as his eyes flickered up to meet Jihoon’s. “Uh, go ahead.” 

“You're free not to answer this, but I was wondering…” Seungcheol stumbled in his words.. “What ended your relationship? Was he—she—were they...I mean...are you okay?” 

Memories gathered like storm clouds, thick, dark, and threatening. Jihoon’s lips curled into a bittersweet grin, though his eyes remained tortured. “I'm fine, it wasn't really anything serious.”  _ Lie.  _ “I just felt like things were getting stale. Like I needed a change, so I left him.”  _ Also a lie.  _

“Ah, so you just wanted to spice things up a little?”

Good thing Seungcheol could be dense as a brick. “Yeah.” 

Jihoon couldn't help but watch as Seungcheol straightened his posture, his warm stance and broad forearms taunting again. “Well, if that's the case, I think I've got just the thing for you.” 

“Oh dear god.”

The brunette softened, his half-lidded smile piercing Jihoon right through the heart.  _ Those lips looked so kissable _ . So, so kissable. He glided forward just a tad, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind Jihoon’s ear. “Trust me on this one, honey bear.” 

“If you take me out for Mexican or something to “spice it up,” I swear to God—”

Seungcheol’s laugh rang through the air, rebounding off the ice, and rattling Jihoon’s chest. It was smooth, yet so rough, like an old woolen blanket just a little rough around the edges. It was so inviting and protective and it was everything Jihoon wanted to hear. “I swear on my life that you’ll love it. Please, just consider it.” 

“Fine.” 

“8 tonight?”

“Who the hell do you think I am, telling me 8  _ tonight?  _ I actually have things to do, you know,” Jihoon hissed, giving Seungcheol a hand as he stepped off of the ice. He wasn't busy at all, but what kind of person accepts a last minute invitation? A desperate person, that's who. And Jihoon was not desperate. 

“Alright, alright, I think I get the message. Are you free this weekend, then?” 

“Saturday it is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING STAY LIT YOU GUYS I SWEAR THEYRE GONNA DO IT EVENTUALLY JUST U WA I T


	3. Midnight Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's gay and angsty what else

“Practicing again, huh?” 

Seungcheol paid Jeonghan little mind as he dropped his right leg, feet splitting in a perfectly executed lunge. His expression was dull, but focused; his eyes didn't even so much as pull away from their forward gaze. “Jihoon doesn't come on Fridays.” 

“I know. He never has.” A bitter smirk filtered onto the blond’s features, and his body tipped languidly against the rink wall. With no response from the other skater, his already faint expression dissipated, remaining rather stern as he looked on in silence. Seungcheol struck the ice hard, and in another 4 seconds he landed on a single skate.  _ Beautiful. _

“You're going out with him tomorrow?” Jeonghan waited patiently for the elder to swivel back around and respond. 

“Yeah.” 

“...You should probably tell him.” 

“I should.” Seungcheol deadpanned, but Jeonghan caught the newfound heaviness in his stride. His skates were scratching—it wasn't like him.

“But will you?” Jeonghan had found a chord to strike, and this was more than clear to both of them, as much as Seungcheol tried to resist that fact. His eyebrows knitted together, arms tight and stiff as he performed an Ina Bauer; he thrust back, broad chest turned to the ceiling. The typically graceful move fit angrily on Seungcheol now, much to his Jeonghans’s accomplishment. 

“I don't know.” Seungcheol’s voice wasn't any louder, but all the more comminatory, teeming with irritation.. 

Jeonghan pushed away from the wall, the tense atmosphere fueling each pacing step he took. He turned away from the ice, flicking his flaxen locks over his shoulder. “You know, I know this seems like fun and games to you, and I'll admit that it gave me my fair share of amusement, but you've got to tell him before he finds out. Give him your reasons before he comes up with his own.” 

“I know.” 

Jeonghan gandered over his shoulder to see Seungcheol step out of his triple axel, before resuming his pace. “So you'll do it.” 

“I didn't say—” The elder growled, his eyes still pointed forward. 

“Yeah, you didn't say shit Seungcheol, but you're not the one with a bid on the table.” 

“We only met a few days ago.” His spin was furiously fast, and the hands on his chest clung to his shirt. Seungcheol crouched, barely able to forward his leg. And dammit, he was floating right.  _ Not good.  _

“Exactly. You've only known each other for a few days, and in that time Jihoon has thrown his time into you. How many hours did he skate with you yesterday? Thirteen? He's pouring himself into you, Seungcheol, and for what? For you to take him out on a few dates, drain whatever twisted comfort you find in meddling with strangers, and then fuck him?” 

Those words pelted him like stones, harsh and blunt against his skin. His step sequence was fiery now, sharp and angled, an appalling dance atop the ice. “There's nothing wrong with two consenting adults getting a nice fuck out of each other.” 

“You're right, there's nothing wrong with that. But you know it's not what Jihoon wants. Especially not from someone who won't even share his name.” 

Seungcheol stopped, grinding his toe pick and snapping toward Jeonghan. “And What do you care? Why are you suddenly so interested in my private affairs? You've never cared before, but suddenly you to get to decide what I plan on doing with him? You’re an expert, and you suddenly know exactly what I want?”

Jeonghan was unfazed; Seungcheol’s threatening word was never a match for his counterpart’s wit. “I’m  _ interested  _ because that nasty character you've been playing is starting to do some damage. It was funny when we were younger, but soon enough, you're going to hurt someone.” 

“Well, maybe this isn’t him. Maybe this is me. Maybe it's just Seungcheol this time.” A shred of desperation shone through his frustration, eyes on the brim of tears. They were raw; soft, yearning, pleading. They were truly Seungcheol’s 

“If that's the case, then you've got even more reason to tell him.” 

Seungcheol was silent before he skated back, circling away from Jeonghan and back into the open space. The air still lingered with impending downfall, and it was heavy on the brunette’s shoulders. He struck the ice, and into the air he flew, only to come crashing down with a violent smack. 

Jeonghan didn't have to look back to know the other had fallen; he could hear the man’s heaving breaths as they echoed across the ice. He simply bid his last word, leaving without so much as a glance at broken skater. 

“Choi Seungcheol, don't go breaking hearts.”

 

*****

 

“Wait!” Seungcheol stopped Jihoon from reaching the passenger seat, his hand curling gently around the younger’s arm. He looked as though his heart had found a home in his eyes. Gleaming and sweet, they beamed upwards, a world of infinite possibility. What would Seungcheol choose?

Jihoon's cheeks bloomed with red roses, heart beating faster with each passing second in Seungcheol’s grip. His hands were warm, so much warmer than the chilly autumn air outside, and Jihoon felt like he was being set on fire every time Seungcheol’s fingers tapped against his skin. They were the only motion against the still night, against a still Jihoon, who seemed to be frozen there. He looked expectantly at the elder, his eyes wide and speckled with delight, patiently waiting for him to do something. Anything. 

“You should grab a jacket first.” Seungcheol smiled the same smile Jihoon loved, the one where his lips curled, and his cheeks rose, and his lashes fluttered—but Jihoon was not having any of that, because  _ what?  _ Who did Cheol think he was? Jihoon’s mother? He could fend for himself, thank you very much. 

“I'll be fine, I'm a grown ass adult. I think I know what kind of weather I can handle.” Jihoon scoffed, pushing against Seungcheol’s arm and into his seat. He slammed the door behind him and buckled in, popping the seatbelt into its buckle. 

Or at least, he tried to. 

“What the hell’s wrong with this thing?” The gray belt slipped from its holder every time Jihoon pushed it in, even though he was sure, like 99.7 percent sure that he knew how to buckle a seatbelt. Okay, maybe it was more like 95 percent, but that's still pretty sure, and  _ why won't this thing stay in place? _

“Oh, yeah. That one can be a little tricky.” Seungcheol chuckled a bit, turning to face Jihoon. “Here, let me get it for you.” Just like Jihoon feared he would, the elder leaned over him, settling a strong hand on Jihoon’s thigh as he worked at the seat belt. The blond wondered if that was  _ really  _ necessary, but as Seungcheol’s thick fingers instinctively flexed around him, he decided that he'd let it slide. 

It wasn't a quick fix though, because apparently Cheol didn't know how to buckle that seatbelt, either. Time after time the belt zipped back up, Seungcheol inching dangerously close to Jihoon as his frustration grew. 

“Fuck,” He grunted, deep and husky. Jihoon had imagined that voice so many times that he wasn't even sure if it were real, but as Seungcheol shifted closer, reality hit him like a brick. He could feel the brunette’s breath against his neck, could feel the smirk that tugged his lips when he shook the buckle again; every movement and every noise went straight to his cock, making it twitch with excitement. 

As if Jihoon wasn't already dying where he sat, Seungcheol leaned fully into him, jerking the seat belt this time with reckless abandon. It was a lewd motion, no help at all to Jihoon's swelling desire, not to his shredded dignity. He shifted uncomfortably, doing all he could to stifle the hitching in his breath—he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to keep it up, but it seemed as though it was going to be an eternity before he'd be able to move again.

Suddenly there was a click, and just as easily as Seungcheol had settled above him, he sat back, proudly clapping the seatbelt that now sat snugly on Jihoon’s shoulder. 

“There, we’re all set!” 

Jihoon’s mouth gaped, opening and closing again like a fish. His brain had turned to mush and his body felt empty, like all of its contents had disintegrated the moment Seungcheol’s hands left his skin. He had practically just been smothered, and now Seungcheol was acting like nothing had happened at all! How could he? Not that Jihoon  _ wanted  _ him to do anything, but you know, the feeling of nothing was equally as agonizing. 

“Something wrong?” The look on Seungcheol’s face was absolutely wicked, the epitome of mischievous, but his eyes were so soft that Jihoon had a hard time believing he knew what he’d done. 

“Just...your face.” It wasn’t as elegant a statement as Jihoon had hoped, but part of him didn’t care to fix it. 

“My face? Why Jihoon, I’m insulted!” Seungcheol mocked hurt, gasping and dramatically clutching his chest. 

Jihoon scoffed, attempting to hide the happiness on his lips. “It’s nothing like  _ that _ , you just look awfully guilty.” 

“Guilty?” Seungcheol eyed Jihoon from the side, eyebrows raised, and a slight hint of laughter hanging in his voice. “I’m just...really glad you came with me tonight.” 

A deep crimson settled on Jihoon’s cheeks, which hid safely behind his hands. His heart was drumming, like a tiny band caged in his chest. Its music was loud, and he felt like he might burst—but the voice in his head was louder, and Jihoon heard the message clearly. 

_ Don’t.  _

“...Oh.” He wheezed, pressing his hands even harder against his cheeks. It was silent for a moment, the air ill at ease as neither man spoke a single word. Jihoon dared to spare Seungcheol a glance; his sable hair fell loosely over his forehead, the gentle night sky dancing upon it. Moonlight bathed his skin, illuminating his features in a way the blond couldn’t tear his eyes away from. His skin was aglow, sheathed in a halo of soft, sleepy light, and his  _ eyes.  _ Jihoon had found them beautiful the second they met, but now they shimmered in a mellow hue that nearly stopped the younger’s heart. 

Seungcheol was a masterpiece, an arsenal of wonder that had Jihoon on his toes. For every doubting thought his mind shot, Seungcheol had something to fire back, and the wall Jihoon had built was growing thin. 

“Huh. I forgot to turn the radio on.” The elder’s fingers flicked a button, filling the car with a gentle melody. 

The ride wasn't long but it was peacefully quiet, a comfortable silence that Jihoon hadn't felt in years; not with anyone he could remember, and never quite this pleasing. Seungcheol was continuously a source of pleasant surprises; especially now when he was escorting Jihoon from the passenger’s seat. 

The fresh air of twilight tickled his skin as Seungcheol guided him out into the open. They were nowhere; there was nothing around them for as far as Jihoon could see. There was just a field, with the stars up above and the grass below, trees surrounding the horizon. He'd admit, it was beautiful, but that didn't ease his confusion. 

“Cheol? Where are we?” He looked up to find that the man was gone, and now that confusion was quickly turning to terror. 

“C-Cheol? W-w—”

“I'm right here, honey bear.” Seungcheol’s broad arms were curling around Jihoon, the smaller’s back pressed to his chest. “I just had to get some stuff from the trunk. Did you really think I would've dumped you here and left?” 

“Yes! I barely know you, you drove me miles out of the city to god knows where, and then you were gone. Gone! What was I supposed to think?!” Jihoon could feel Seungcheol’s chest rattle against his back as he laughed, brushing a thumb along his shoulder. He felt much safer like this, like Seungcheol's arms were a warm, familiar bed. 

Seungcheol swayed playfully back and forth with Jihoon still in his arms, glee still in his voice. “Okay, well for starters, we've probably spent a cumulative 60 hours together, so I'd hope that you’d at least have  _ some  _ faith in me by now. Second, we’re only a few miles outside of the city, and this is because we’re going on a  _ picnic. _ ” A raised arm showcased a wicker basket, complete with a tartan blanket and a bottle of…

“You brought  _ wine? _ ” 

“It's apple juice.” 

“Oh.” 

Jihoon waited while Seungcheol spread the blanket, taking note of the scenery around him. The sky was so clear here, so full of stars that Jihoon swore it was something out of a storybook. They twinkled, shedding their light on the woodland below. The trees bowed to the moon, and the flowers swayed in the breeze; but the most beautiful of the scenery was the prince who kneeled upon the grass, smiling to himself as he prepared their feast. 

  
“You can sit, now,” Seungcheol’s voice broke the silence, beckoning Jihoon to make home on the blanket. He flung himself onto it, awe-struck eyes glued to the sky, and his hand blindly fumbling for the basket. It didn’t find that though; what it found was Seungcheol’s hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading you guysssss i'll update soonish


	4. Cool Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i dedicate this chapter to arthur (butcherbaker17maker) because he is a cool guy

Jihoon’s fingers were burning; they were on fire, yet he couldn't let go. His arm twitched, unsure of whether to follow his heart or his head, and if Jihoon were being honest, he was scared as hell to choose either one. He could only stare at his hand, and the clumsy way it clutched Seungcheol’s. Some part of him wanted this, wanted to chase Seungcheol with reckless abandon and never look back, to throw the world behind himself and love again. 

But things are never so simple. 

Gingerly, the brunette slid his hand from the tight curl of Jihoon's fingers, instead cupping them with his palm. His thumb traced circles on the skater’s wrist, slow and easy as he pondered the worry in Jihoon’s complexion. 

He looked awed, nervous, as though they'd never been this close before, as if they hadn't already shared a thousand touches. Contact wasn't a scarce commodity between the two, that much was certain; but why then did Jihoon look so stricken? It was always like this.  Seungcheol couldn’t get close to Jihoon without him going stiff, or pulling away completely. It was like he didn’t want to be there. Like he didn’t like Seungcheol. Jihoon’s arm twitched again, trembling fingertips begging for an answer.

Seungcheol would give him one—he laid his palm open, a gentle invitation. “Do you want to hold it?” 

Jihoon threaded his fingers through Seungcheol’s and squeezed, loosely at first, then desperately. His nails dug into the back of Seungcheol’s knuckles, anchoring him to the man like his life depended on it. The elder’s gaze traveled to Jihoon’s chest, the way it rose and fell with such stress. His hands were sweating, too, and his breaths were shallow; he was such a sore sight against the calm that surrounded him. 

“Jihoon…” Seungcheol spoke softly, with a feather light tongue, and words even lighter yet.  “Are you scared of me?”

There was an audible pause in Jihoon's breath as he looked over, bemused. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

Seungcheol’s eyes wandered to the sky, but his smile drooped, bittersweet. “You tense sometimes. When I get too close, or when we touch. You get this look and your eyes, and you just freeze. It seems like you’re scared to be around me.” 

“I'm not scared of you.” 

“Then what are you afraid of?” His gaze flicked back over, intent and willful, as if he could draw the answers from the inside out. Jihoon was scared, of that much he was sure. But why?

“I'm not afraid, Cheol,” Jihoon sighed, returning his attention to the stars.

“Everybody’s afraid of something.” A cool breeze washed over the brunette, whisking his misgivings away with it. “I'm afraid of thunder, you know.” 

Jihoon’s lips furled into a fond smile, candied and sweet with laughter. “Really? A big tough guy like  _ you _ is afraid of thunder.” 

“Yeah. It's embarrassing, right?” 

Jihoon hummed thoughtfully. “Mm, I don't think so. Like you said, everybody is afraid of something.” 

The air was silent, wet with yearning as Seungcheol turned on his side, unhooking his hand from Jihoon’s and grazing it over the blond’s hip. Up it crept, padded fingertips gliding over skin with gentle inclination, like freshly plucked cotton, graceful and mild. Jihoon shivered under his touch, a small gasp escaping his lips as Seungcheol’s hand cupped his cheek. His eyes were twinkling with such fondness and adoration that Jihoon almost believed Seungcheol was in love _.  _ Overwhelming, whole-hearted  _ love.  _

It was too much. 

Jihoon’s head fell wearily into the crook of Seungcheol’s neck, his fingers gripping the man’s sweater. He clung loosely, burrowing into the warmth of the Seungcheol’s broad chest for what he hoped would be an eternity. The elder seemed to wish the same; he cradled Jihoon’s head and sighed in contentment, his eyelids fluttering closed.

“...Thunder is scary...spiders are scary...but you know what I think is the scariest of all?” Seungcheol’s voice was languid and raw, his heart unbarred against better judgement. “Being myself.” 

Jihoon’s stomach wrenched with guilt at the way Seungcheol’s heart sat so openly on his sleeve, like he was willing to be vulnerable—willing to be hurt. “...This is getting pretty deep for our first time out together.”

“Should I stop?”

“Yeah.” His lips grazed Seungcheol’s shoulder as he spoke. “I don’t want you to say something you’ll regret.” 

Seungcheol pursed his lips before they flashed a meek smile. “Thank you, Jihoon.” 

As they lay there in silence, the heavens seemed to shine down on them, the stars kissing their skin, and the sky caressing their limbs. The earth and all of its turmoil crumbled beneath them, and in that moment, Jihoon thought that maybe everything would be alright. 

...Except for maybe one little thing.

“Cheol? I-I'm cold.” Goosebumps painted Jihoon’s skin, unprotected from the relentlessness of November nights. 

Seungcheol pulled Jihoon flush against himself, snaking an arm protectively around the smaller’s torso, and curling a leg around his hips. As he Jihoon’s head further against his chest, he fashioned a grin; “Hmm, if I remember correctly, someone told you to bring a jacket.” 

Jihoon would have to make a note to slap him later. But for now, he figured, he’d let it go. 

“Shut up.”

 

****

 

Jihoon’s fingers were delicate, rosy and so damn captivating as they plucked at Seungcheol’s laces. The elder watched on from above, unable to tear his eyes away, musing at the way Jihoon knelt down so diligently at his feet. To the untrained eye, it almost seemed as if tying Seungcheol’s skates was an earnest duty—of course, it wasn't, but that didn't make Jihoon any less mesmerizing. A steady stream of adoration trickled through Seungcheol’s mind, saying pretty. Pretty  _ face _ , pretty  _ body _ , pretty  _ boy _ .

His hand wandered mindlessly to Jihoon’s forehead, tilting it backward to reveal a somewhat wary face, though it certainly wasn’t displeased; there was ease in the act, the way they molded together so seamlessly, bodies one and the same. Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed when Jihoon obeyed, his eyes curious and his florid lips parted in wonder. Experimentally, Seungcheol brushed his fingers back into the blond’s hair, gripping it into a tight first, and pulling ever so slightly. Jihoon was spellbound, frozen under Seungcheol’s gaze, a gaze that swam with something Jihoon couldn’t quite identify. It was something hungry, something lustful, and maybe a little bit scared; it was something he’d never seen before, but it both terrified and thrilled him. His nerves were alight and his breath shook through his lips, eager to follow Seungcheol’s every command. 

Seungcheol held him there with such raw intensity, heavy breaths and anxious ticks passing in minutes of otherwise silence. Jihoon felt those eyes devouring him whole, and he wanted them to, he wanted them to swallow him whole. But at the drop of a dime, they brightened, and Seungcheol’s hand released Jihoon from its grasp. “Thanks for tying them, JiJi. They can be a real pain sometimes,” he said through a grin, springing from his seat and heading toward the locker room door. “Now let's get going!” 

An sudden emptiness lurked in Jihoon’s chest, cold and bitter as it circled his heart. He had seen Seungcheol in earnest, true and and warm and enveloping, only to be thrust back into the icy realm of uncertainty. 

And that uncertainty, it was excruciating. 

At first, it didn't occur to the younger to look up, or that his attention was being begged of; his pensive stare continued on right through Seungcheol, that is, until the elder spoke again. “Uh, hey, Jihoon, you okay? I'm ready to skate.” The depth in his eyes was gone, leaving only shallow pools of umber, still beautiful, but so dull in comparison to what Jihoon knew lied underneath. 

Jihoon sighed, feigning contentment. “Oh—Sorry. Yeah, I'm ready.” 

He followed Seungcheol out onto the ice, where the brunette was already spinning eager little circles around the gate. He looked easy, sure, nothing like the man Jihoon met four weeks ago. He was standing, for one; for two, he was moving, and three, he was steady all on his own. A smile tugged at the corners of Jihoon’s lips as he glided closer to Seungcheol. 

“You’ve gotten a hell of a lot better,” he noted, mimicking the swiveling motion on his own skates. 

Seungcheol scratched his chin in mock thought, eyeing Jihoon with devious intent. “Hmm, I wonder who I should thank for that?”

“I bet you could think of someone.” 

“Well,” Seungcheol started, closing his circling in around Jihoon. His expression was pensive and distant, but it held hints of playfulness—a glint in his eyes, a curl in his lips. “There’s  _ is  _ this one guy.” 

Jihoon cocked an eyebrow, smile widening. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm. He’s blond, he’s short,” Seungcheol shot Jihoon a mischievous glance, snickering at the way the other skater scowled. “...and he’s he’s got a bit of a temper. He’s a little weird, too, but I think he’s nice.” 

Seungcheol’s revolutions were getting smaller, and Jihoon’s cage was getting tighter; his breath hitched as Seungcheol’s shoulder grazed him. “Why do you say that?” 

“Well, he does lots of nice things. He ties my skates, he eats my leftover food, he invites me out to dinner—” 

“That was once,” Jihoon interjected, only feeding the growing smile on Seungcheol’s face. 

“—He goes on long drives with me, he plays really good music, he makes sure I don’t have to sit on the right side of the bench—” 

“Seriously, what’s up with that? It’s really weird.” 

Jihoon laughs when Seungcheol’s thick brows knit together, and his arms flail around childishly. “I just really hate the right side! Just! Really! A lot!” 

“You’re a dork. Just! Really! A lot!” The younger teases, slipping through the ring Seungcheol has created around him. 

Seungcheol scoffed at this with a stiff grin, ignoring the pang of hurt that skulked through his chest. His eyes traced the scuffs that blanket the ice, and slowly, his grin diluted into a faint pout. “No, I’m actually like, the coolest guy ever. A cool guy, is what I am.” 

His demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Jihoon, whose gaze was drawn to Seungcheol like a moth to a flame; the depth had returned to his eyes, if just for a second, and Jihoon couldn’t have been more intrigued. “Tell you what, cool guy. Race me, and if you win, I’ll admit that you’re cool.” 

Seungcheol stopped to face Jihoon. “And if you win…” 

“You’ll tell me why you hate the right side of the bench so much.” 

“Deal.” 

Once they’d both poised themselves at the bottom of the rink, Jihoon made it a point to even the stance, pointing Seungcheol to his spot with militant authority. He was the better skater, at least, to his knowledge,  but Seungcheol was tall, and incredibly well built; he’d be a fit opponent. 

“All the way to the end, touch the wall, and all the way back. If you start before I say go, you automatically lose.”

“Got it.” 

“Ready…” Seungcheol kept his eyes forward, locked on the target. 

“Set…” Jihoon’s eyes were on Seungcheol.

“Go!” Seungcheol lunged forward, welcoming the adrenaline the rushed through his veins with each long-legged stride. His body moved with unparalleled skill, steady, strong, and fast, but it wouldn’t be such an easy win; in the corners of his vision, he could see Jihoon, even at his side. But he was determined to change that. As they approached the wall, Seungcheol flipped his back to it, sporting a sly wink as he kicked off of it and back to where he’d come from. He flew past Jihoon, who now regretted teaching Seungcheol to skate backwards, or skate at all.  _ That bastard.  _

With the fury of all hell, the blond pushed himself around, legs working overtime to close the gap that Seungcheol had created between them. He wanted, no  _ needed  _ to hear Seungcheol’s story, he needed to learn that man from the inside out. He sought every piece of Seungcheol there was to be found, but as always, he was out of reach. Seungcheol’s hands struck the wall hard, the sound of it reverberating in the air—Jihoon’s hands hit second. 

“Fuck.” Defeat was a mistress Jihoon was well accustomed to, but at this high a price, she was no longer welcome; Seungcheol wasn’t a piece he was willing to lose. He huffed, resting his head flush against the glass and letting his legs go slack.

Seungcheol joined him, clapping a hand on the younger’s heaving back, his gaze focused on the beads of sweat that clung to the tip of Jihoon’s nose. His breaths were particularly strained, Seungcheol noticed, and his nails dug into the bridge of his palm, leaving little red marks in their wake. 

The brunette brushed his thumb against the nape of Jihoon’s neck, fingers itching to soothe. “You okay, Jihoon?” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon lied, shoving his woe to the back of his mind. “I just...hit the wall too hard.” 

“It doesn’t hurt does it?” There was a flash of worry in Seungcheol’s gaze, but Jihoon quickly dismissed it.

“No. I’m fine, cool guy.” He looked up from under his lashes to find Seungcheol looming over him, a shit eating grin plastered to his face. Part of that was cute, maybe, but for the most part it was  _ stupid.  _ A cute stupid? It didn’t matter, because suddenly, Jihoon’s phone was ringing. 

He identified the caller as his mother, and answered immediately, a chorus of ‘yeah’s,  ‘mhm’s, and ‘okay’s pouring from his lips. Seungcheol watched as his lips pulled into a grimace, and he uttered a last ‘alright,’ returning the device to his pocket. 

“Shit. Cheol, I’m sorry, but there’s kind of an emergency at home, and I need to go, but I’ll see you again on Monday?” Jihoon was already untying his skates as he moved toward the gate; Seungcheol followed loosely behind, trailing lazily in Jihoon’s footsteps as he scrambled to pack up and get home. 

“Yeah, definitely. I’m gonna stay until close tonight, though, so I can practice some more.” 

“How diligent.” 

Seungcheol cocked a brow at the way Jihoon threw himself around, tossing his things haphazardly in his bag, and bypassing the dressing room altogether. “More like it’s fun?” 

“Touche.” Jihoon hung in the doorway for a moment, sparing Seungcheol an apologetic glance. “I really—I have to leave now, though.” 

With a smile, Seungcheol waved him off, a bit of laughter hanging in his voice. “I’ll try not to miss you too much.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready 4 the secx


	5. 'Till I Can't Think Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexc as promised

Jihoon's hands curled into fists at his sides, and his eyes burned, glaring thick with restrained anger ablaze behind his self control. As he watched the skater in the rink, every gut feeling and every hint of suspicion made sense, every fleeting doubt and every flicker of warning had proved itself right. 

His earlier “emergency” had been a little less urgent than he'd anticipated—nothing more than a pair of lost keys—and in his spare time, Jihoon figured he'd fit in some extra practice. The rink had closed to the public over an hour ago, and as far as he knew, no other skaters booked times this late at night; he'd have the rink all to himself, and maybe, he'd finally land a quadruple lutz. He could grow as a skater, he could make up the time he had lost in recent weeks, tangled in distractions he could barely afford. 

What he didn't expect, though, was to find  _ Cheol _ pulling flawless axels and brilliant spins in the dim night light, moving in ways that Jihoon could only call  _ fairytale _ . He was like a prince, no, a  _ king,  _ so absolutely fantastical that the blond almost had a hard time being angry. 

Yet his skin boiled, hot with betrayal, its every inch crawling with the uncomfortable itch of Cheol’s lies. He wanted to punch that man, smack a clenched fist into his jaw until he was reeling, spitting blood onto the ice. To some degree, the brunette deserved it; even in this moment he radiated deceit, flaunting handsome arms, handsome eyes, and handsome lips that only added up to a liar, a horrible,  _ horrible liar.  _ And god, it  _ hurt.  _

Jihoon had stripped himself bare, his walls had come down, his soul stood naked to the wind—and for what? For whom? For someone whose identity he didn't even know?

He laced his skates and took the rink, silently tracing Seungcheol’s path like a shadow, clinging to the wake of his every movement. It didn't take long for him to catch up to the man, for his hands to lace behind his back and his lips to creep sadistically toward the elder’s ear. 

“Hiya.” 

Jihoon’s voice knocked Seungcheol off balance, his head craning to catch slitted eyes and a stern grimace. Seungcheol tumbled to the ground, and Jihoon held his gaze, dark and unrelenting even as the brunette’s spine collided with the ice. 

“J-Jihoon…” Seungcheol’s breath was slow returning to his lungs.  _ Too _ slow. He wheezed, cracking a smile that was incredibly wry, crooked lips looking out of place under his petrified eyes. Another few breaths rattled his throat before he dared to speak again, with an incredibly unsteady tone. “H-hi.” 

The air was thick as Jihoon gripped Seungcheol's arm, yanking him to his feet without any care as to whether the taller’s arm came off in the process. Seungcheol winced and shook out the injured limb, cautious not to meet Jihoon's gaze. 

“So,” Jihoon crossed his arms incredulously, enjoying a bit too much the way Seungcheol stiffened at his voice. “Wanna maybe explain yourself?” 

“Jihoon, I…” The cold seemed to swallow Seungcheol's voice, already so small to begin with. 

“Tell me your name. Your full, legal name.” 

“...Choi Seungcheol.” 

Jihoon scoffed, bitter, and turned his back to Seungcheol. His feet followed, slowly, creeping along in absent patterns as he took in the depth of those two words, of that name and everything that it signified. 

“Choi Seungcheol, two time silver medalist of the ISU Grand Prix, and a competitor in the World Championships. Choi Seungcheol, 13 years my rival, 13 years my foreshadower. Choi Seungcheol, the man that I've been...teaching to skate.” Jihoon’s brows pulled together, his expression written with both perplexity and anger. Seungcheol only watched him, silent, guilty as accused. His arms hung limply at his side without an ounce of protest in them—how could he? How could he protest when he'd known his fault all along? 

Jihoon took a sharp turn, anchoring himself before he returned his eyes to Seungcheol. They weren’t there for long, lingering only for a second or two, flickering with a hint of sadness and falling away as he searched for something to say. Words were scattered about like puzzle pieces, disjoint and misshapen, impossible to put together. 

With each passing second, the puzzle got harder, and it was likely that things weren't getting any easier for Seungcheol, either. Jihoon shook his head and exhaled, settling to spill his thoughts as the already were. 

“For  _ a month  _ I instructed you, and you've been a professional skater the whole time. I could've been practicing, I-I could've been sharpening my skills, but instead, I was wasting my time...on  _ you.  _ I gave you so much more than you'll ever know, and you—” Jihoon’s eyes shot daggers at the man beside him, resisting the instinctive clench of his fists. “You lied to me.” 

Seungcheol’s head hung low, lips pursed together, and although he couldn't see Jihoon’s gaze for himself, he felt its relentless chill. 

“You wasted my time, not to mention your own—do you know how  _ stupid  _ that is?” Every word spurred an ache in Seungcheol's skin, for contact, for warmth. But Jihoon was denying him of everything he wanted, and he knew damn well why. 

“I know.” 

Jihoon shook his head again. “So then...why?” 

Seungcheol swallowed hard, inching closer to where Jihoon stood near the wall. “Because, I—” His hand ventured out, his fingertips anxiously gripping the fabric of Jihoon's black T shirt before walking along his hip bone. His breath shuddered, his cheeks flushed, and he bled with more sincerity and yearning than Jihoon had ever seen before. 

“I-I like you.” 

Jihoon's eyes fluttered closed in hopes of shutting out anything that could make him lose his ground—and in this moment, those things were Seungcheol in his entirety. It was like the man had forced his way into Jihoon’s body, making his heart strain and his lungs stop, making his skin crawl and his cock twitch. He braced his hands against the wall behind him, trying with all his might to keep his head level. “ You  _ like _ me,” he said, a lingering hostility in his tone. “You pulled me out of my schedule because you  _ like  _ me.” 

Jihoon could feel the slight tremble in Seungcheol's hands as they snaked around his waist, fingers plucking at the small of his back. The gap between them narrowed to only a breath, a hot breath, ghosting over the pale expanse of Jihoon's neck. Seungcheol idled for a moment, reluctant to tear himself away from this haven; his brows pulled together, his eyes screwed shut, and the flush on his cheeks spread higher as his lips approached Jihoon's skin.

“What if I were to change one of those words?” Seungcheol mused, dragging his mouth to Jihoon's ear. “What if I were to say that I love you?” 

The hammering in Jihoon's chest grew louder; he was sure Seungcheol could hear it, and if not, he could surely feel it. Jihoon was at a loss, for word, for thought, and for every sense he'd ever had. All he knew was the needy  _ want  _ that slithered around in the pit of his stomach. He didn't dare speak, didn't dare move, save for the shallow breaths that shook their way through him. 

Seungcheol took this as an opportunity to turn the tables, to demand an answer from Jihoon the same way he'd just done. 

“Tell me, Jihoon, why did you help me?” Jihoon was silent, even as Seungcheol begged for an answer. His head turned away as if the question might simply disappear, though he knew much better than to believe that it would. Seungcheol pressed on, cupping Jihoon's shoulder blade with a tender touch. “Was it because you love me, too?” Whether it was arousal, amusement, or some kind of fear, Jihoon didn't know, but Seungcheol’s voice was a cage around him, unbearably tight. 

The space seemed infinitely small now, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Seungcheol needed an answer, he needed a  _ yes,  _ but every sign seemed to tell him Jihoon would say no. His lips skimmed the skater’s lips, soft, unsteady, a final plea for Jihoon’s heart before he pulled back. Unable to hide the desperation in his voice, he dragged out a name, agonizingly slow. 

“Ji...hoon...ah?”

Their eyes locked for a few burning seconds before Jihoon’s fingers curled into the fabric of Seungcheol's shirt and yanked it forward. The space between them disappeared, lips crashing together in a haze of heat and frustration, and dammit, Jihoon was  _ in heaven.  _ The feeling of Seungcheol against him, it was so broad and safe, and he wanted to be lost in it. He stepped forward another fraction of an inch,  _ anything to get closer,  _ wedging a skated foot between Seungcheol’s legs. 

He was warm, God, he was so warm—it was a very  _ Seungcheol _ thing to be, Jihoon noticed, and he loved everything about that. It sent a fire coursing through his veins that he couldn't contain, dancing on his fingertips and burning in his hips—his hands were pulled to Seungcheol’s face like magnets, attached to his skin, greedy and hungry, sipping every ounce of heat he could. 

Seungcheol’s back arched at the sudden contact, chest pressing flat against Jihoon’s. It felt like home, the way these lips moved against his like they were made to, the way this body fit against his own, the way these icy little hands held him in all the right places. Seungcheol tightened his grip around Jihoon’s waist, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing past pliant lips. Jihoon was always so  _ cold,  _ but now, Seungcheol wanted him to melt, he wanted every last bone in Jihoon’s body to give in to his touch. 

A whimper escaped the shorter, and his knees trembled with anticipation as he clung to Seungcheol, coiling a leg around the man’s waist. “You feel good,” He slurred, only barely taking a breath before he took Seungcheol’s bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down, and just a bit more pressure had Seungcheol keening, low growls rolling deep in his throat. His hips rocked up against Jihoon’s, his length so much more evident now that it pressed heavily into Jihoon’s thigh. 

A hand snuck up to weave itself into blond hair, while his mouth wandered along Jihoon’s jaw, peppering kisses down to his neck. He worried at the skin there, biting gently and nursing the marks with his lips. It was pretty, the whole thing was just so damn  _ pretty, _ inky marks on pale skin, with Seungcheol’s name etched into every shade of purple his mouth left behind. Shallow moans whistled through Jihoon’s parted lips, hot and dry, as Seungcheol worked him. The elder’s hands squared his hips straight, grinding his own against them with a new fervor, an increasing need that had Jihoon weak. 

“S-Seungcheol—” Jihoon interjected, clutching the wall behind him as his standing foot began to waver. “We need...to get— _ mmm _ —get off of the ice.” 

The response was a nod and a swift change of position; Seungcheol’s chest framed Jihoon’s back, hands gently guiding him by the waist as they left the rink. His mouth didn’t venture far from Jihoon’s neck until they reached the locker room, where he promptly shed himself of clothing, stripping the blond too, while he was at it. He worked off the skates first, shirt next, and pants to follow. Black shorts remained hanging on Jihoon's hips, for one reason or another, but mostly, Seungcheol just liked a little imagination. Jihoon reached for Seungcheol's shoulder to pull him back in, but Seungcheol resisted, instead smoothing a hand over Jihoon’s forehead. 

“Let me look at you,” he breathed, ardent eyes raking over the grace of Jihoon's body in the newfound light. His toned shoulders, milky thighs, and the trace of muscle that peeked through the fluff of his stomach. 

“Beautiful.” Seungcheol's voice was a whisper as he took a pert nipple into his mouth, eyes blissfully closed, lips intent to please. He held Jihoon like a treasure, curving his hands so sweetly around the other’s shoulders, so gently dipping his fingers in the curves of Jihoon’s back. Jihoon gasped, his head lilting back against the wall, and his hands grappling at tufts of sable hair. Slowly, Seungcheol’s mouth peeled away from his chest, in favor of trailing elsewhere, pressing kiss after patient kiss along his stomach and down to the tender skin of his thighs. His hands followed, unhurried as they explored every ridge and crevice, every last detail that Jihoon had to offer. 

Seungcheol could drown in this body, the feeling was mutual, but Jihoon was growing restless; Seungcheol was taking his damn time. The hot mouth that sucked on his inner thigh was loving, and the thumb that circled his hip was admittedly pleasant, but something about the act was just way too  _ intimate.  _ There was too much  _ thought  _ to be had, too much  _ emotion _ for Jihoon's liking. He writhed under Seungcheol, digging his anxious fingers into the man’s shoulders, doing his best not to let his mind overtake his body. It was futile though, when Seungcheol was pecking sweet little kisses on his clothed cock, dear as could be. In another second, Jihoon was dragging him up by his hair, Seungcheol’s eyes wide with surprise and lust. Jihoon met them full force, holding the brunette’s jaw square, and touching their foreheads together. 

“Please,” he exhaled, breath shaky and harsh. “Just fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t think anymore.” 

“That's what you want?”

“Please.”

Seungcheol didn't waste a second as he divested Jihoon of his last bits of clothing, tossing them to the ground without haste, and wrapping a hand around Jihoon’s cock. He pumped skillfully, unceremoniously per Jihoon's request of harsh and quick; his other hand fumbled with a locker door, fishing through a range of items before it found a bottle of lube. 

_ Of course he would have that here,  _ Jihoon thought. 

Seungcheol captured Jihoon's lips again, this time dutifully, swallowing every moan and whimper that passed between them. It was uncoordinated, sloppy, but it was also aggressive and thrilling. After a moment he pulled back, catching his breath and hooking an arm under Jihoon’s knee.

“Leg,” he coaxed, lifting until the younger’s leg was flush against the lockers. The standing split wasn't so much a surprise to him as it was an expectation, a  _ skater’s perk,  _ he called it, a mere by product of Jihoon’s career, albeit an incredibly convenient one. He held the limb firmly in place, and Jihoon let it pillow his dazed little head. 

Seungcheol let go of his prick, returning his attention the lube. Jihoon didn't watch Seungcheol coat himself, nor did he care to, but the burn of a blunt finger against his hole wasn't easily ignored, sending a shudder down his spine. Seungcheol must have felt it, because his confidence had willowed into caution, and the force of his finger had dwindled far too low. There was an agonizing nothingness, and another experimental prod before Jihoon furrowed his brow, hips bucking down toward Seungcheol's hand. 

“For fucks sake, just  _ do it!”  _ His wail caught in his throat as Seungcheol's thick finger pressed into him, then out, then in again, further. Jihoon’s body was eager to swallow it, his heat clasping around the digit and his hips wriggling to find more contact. Seungcheol took this as a sign to add another finger; he pulled the first out, then pushed in two, only knuckle deep. There was tension, he could see it in Jihoon’s face, but somehow the blond was still grinding against his hand. 

“You’re tighter than I thought you’d be,” Seungcheol remarks, easing the full length of his fingers into Jihoon’s heat, scissoring them. Jihoon scoffed, then choked out a moan, resisting the urge to throw Seungcheol a dirty look. Instead he focused on the burning in his ass, the movement of Seungcheol’s digits against his walls, curling, prodding, pulling—a third finger working its way in. “I like it,” Seungcheol added, playfully spreading his fingers to emphasize just how tight Jihoon was. They took their course, plying him open, a slight nudge at his prostate every now and then. It felt nice, but is wasn’t nearly gratifying enough. No, Jihoon wanted to be  _ taken.  _ He wanted Seungcheol’s cock to fill him up until he was bursting at the seams, until there was no more room for anything else, no thought, no emotion. He wanted to be high on it, the feeling of being so full, the feeling of his skin crawling and his insides aching and his cock leaking. 

“Did I not tell you to fuck me, or did you forget that that’s what we’re here for?” Jihoon snapped his eyes open and exhaled heavily, jaw tight, gaze boring into Seungcheol. He almost felt bad for a second when the other’s eyes flickered with a hint of hurt, but then Seungcheol was pressing his member against Jihoon’s hole, and any trace of sympathy was gone. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and his hands held tight to Seungcheol’s shoulders, knuckles turning white as the man’s member filled him up. 

“All of it,” Jihoon begged, letting his eyes fall shut again. “I want all of it.” 

Seungcheol obeyed, inching in until he had bottomed out. The hand on Jihoon’s leg was trembling; he braced the other against the lockers, and slowly rolled his hips. A faint  _ ‘yes’  _ fell from Jihoon's tongue, and that was all Seungcheol needed to roll his hips again, a groan rattling his chest. Jihoon was clamping tight around him, hot, slick,  _ tight,  _ and god, did he need more of that. His hips jerked back and he thrust back in, relishing in the way the lockers banged against the wall with each thrust. 

Jihoon was in gone, eyes shut, limbs slack, his head tilted back; he was washed by wave after wave of mind numbing ecstasy, a steady rhythm of skin against skin, hips against hips, a cock brushing in and out of him. He barely registered when Seungcheol pulled out and released his leg, turning the dizzy boy around until his hands met the wall, and his ass sat high in the air. Then Seungcheol was pounding back into him, gripping his hips and fucking him in earnest. The pace was relentless, an assault of physical pleasure with no respite, Seungcheol’s member hitting his prostate over and over and over again. He let his body do the work, moaning out with no restraint, and letting Seungcheol fuck him until he’d been had. 

…

Jihoon didn’t recall showering or dressing himself—he didn’t even recall finishing, for that matter, but when he comes to his senses, he’s sat on the bench, nuzzled against Seungcheol’s chest. The sweater he was wearing didn’t look like it was even his, but he didn’t really mind, if only because it was a blanket on his small frame. He shifted against the larger man, tipping his face back to gather a look at him, when Seungcheol gazed back down with a soft smile. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” he whispered, swiping a thumb across Jihoon’s forehead. It was soft, and smelled of soap. He did it again, absent mindedly combing a few more fingers into the blond’s hair. “You feeling okay?” 

Jihoon nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He teased the edge of his sweater, rolling the hem between his palms before letting it drop back into his lap. The air around him was warm, he noticed, threatening to drag him back into slumber. Maybe the shower had been run just a few minutes before. He didn’t know. His eyelids fluttered, and he burrowed further into Seungcheol’s chest again.

“That’s good. You had me worried there for a second, just knocking out like that.” 

“How long was I asleep?” 

Seungcheol pondered for a moment. “About two hours.” 

“Two  _ hours? _ ” Jihoon sat up against him, eyes wide with shock. He hit Seungcheol’s chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the point across. “Idiot, you could’ve just woken me up!” The thought of Seungcheol bathing and clothing him, holding him while he slept, caressing his head, and kissing his cheek, it all brought a blush to his cheeks. 

“No, your knees almost gave out by the end of things, Jihoon. You needed to rest.” 

“I would’ve been fine,” Jihoon muttered, face hot. 

“Maybe so, but I wanted you to rest either way.” A soothing hand cupped Jihoon’s cheek, cradling his head as he began to drift into unconsciousness again. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile down at him, at his fluttery lashes, his plump cheeks, his peony pink lips. Jihoon was a new universe of enchantment, and Seungcheol loved every inch of it. He burrowed his lips in the younger’s hair, guilt heavy on his shoulders.

“Jihoon…I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Jihoon’s brow cocked inquisitively, but he didn’t bother to move much. “That was amazing.” 

“No, no, I know  _ that  _ was amazing.” Seungcheol chuckled a bit, pinching Jihoon’s side before his smile fell, eyes drooping at the edges.“I meant for lying to you.” 

“Oh. I mean…” The skater fidgeted, tugging nervously on the hem of the sweater again. “You don't have to apologize for that. Granted, it's a little off-putting, but it didn't do any harm.” 

“It wasn't right, though. I lied to you, and that's not okay, no matter what I wanted. And I'm sorry.” Seungcheol’s grip tightened around Jihoon’s waist, the hand on his cheek twitching ever so slightly. In some ways, Jihoon was glad Seungcheol felt remorseful. He was glad it hurt, it  _ should _ , but at the same time, it hurt to think that the man was so upset over himself. His hand gently feathered over Seungcheol’s arm, before he thought twice and pulled it away again. 

“I’ll forgive you, Seungcheol…but I want to know something.” 

“Of course.”

“How much of it...how much of you is a lie?” Jihoon was afraid to hear the answer, and Seungcheol was afraid to give him one; he contemplated heavily before setting his words in stone.

“I wasn't entirely genuine in  _ action _ , but I promise to you that I was  _ honest _ . My name and my career were the only lies I ever told you.” 

Jihoon didn't quite understand, but he figured that everyone has their demons, and Seungcheol was simply trying to deal with his. There was no shame in that—Jihoon was, too. 

Seungcheol repositioned himself so that Jihoon’s head rested easy on his shoulder, blond locks tickling his neck. “...Now I think it's my turn to ask a question,” he posed.” 

“Go for it.” 

“How didn't you recognize me? I mean, this really...are you dumb?” 

Jihoon rolled his eyes at playful smile Seungcheol flashed, waving him off and settling more comfortably in the large man’s grasp. “I don't like to watch skating. I know it sounds a little counterproductive, but...I don't like to compare myself to people. I like to improve on my own terms. So I stay out of scores and medals, and focus on me, and only me.” 

“Mhm,” Seungcheol mused. “Go on.” 

“Of course I've seen you once or twice, so you looked familiar, but...it just never clicked. I really only know your name as a backhanded compliment.” 

“How so?” 

Jihoon mocked the voice of what Seungcheol guessed was his coach, or some kind of fan, maybe. “Wow Jihoonie, you're  _ almost _ catching up to Choi Seungcheol!  _ Almost _ like Seungcheol’s score! You and Seungcheol were  _ almost _ close today!” There was a hint of irritation to be found in his tone. “You know, I hear of you a lot, but I rarely see your face.” 

“So this year, you'll not only  _ hear  _ me kick your ass, but you  _ see  _ it too!” Jihoon landed a swift but clumsy kick to Seungcheol’s leg, at which he laughed, and placed a chaste kiss on Jihoon's forehead.

“You wish.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Did this chapter feel: 
> 
> \- Unceremonious?  
> \- Rushed?  
> \- Unsatisfying?
> 
> Yes? Good! That was intentional, because shit's not over yet. But, if you liked this chapter, please bookmark, kudos, share, and comment! (Please, I need validation) It's a really good source of motivation for me as an author, and it allows me to better myself so that I can produce better content for you in the future! 
> 
> In other news, I've been composing a dainty little piece for Seungcheol's short program skate, and you can listen to my progress here  
> [ http://picosong.com/G4Bn/ ]
> 
> I've also opened a twitter, where I cry about Jicheol, and occasionally post little story progress updates! Come find me @alphabetscoups, and don't be afraid to @ or dm me. I might bite, but in a kinky kind of way. 
> 
> Once again, all feedback is greatly appreciated! (Thirsted for!) Thank you guys for reading, I'll be back soon! 
> 
> \- Abi


	6. Full Handprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surprise, bitch

“Just, because I'm not sure if you remember this little factoid about me—”  

Jihoon couldn't quite peg the look on Jeonghan’s face. There was anger, clearly, but it was a shade closer to condescension...or cunning, maybe? Mockery. He had no clue, but the mix of amusement and anger made the angel boy look something like a madman. He unlocked the door to the rink, keeping a close tail behind Jihoon as he traipsed inside. Jeonghan hadn't seemed to budge much since they'd merged paths earlier that morning, mood growing hot the moment he caught sight of the younger. 

“Jihoon, what time do I clock out of work?” 

The question seemed somewhat out of place, but Jihoon answered nonetheless, cocking a brow in bemusement. “Twelve thirty.” 

“Right, and what time did you leave last night?”

Again, Jihoon found the question a little odd, and somewhat irrelevant. Pushing through the door to the locker room, he answered; “Around midnight.” 

“Right again.” Jeonghan didn't miss a beat as Jihoon swung open his locker, fishing out a wallet. He didn't look all to fazed, but contrastingly, Jeonghan was on fire. “And do you know what that means?” 

“Nope.”

“It  _ means  _ that I was here  _ the entire time  _ that you were.” 

Jihoon deadpanned to Jeonghan’s face, sneeringly shrugging his shoulders for a little extra emphasis. “Yes, thank you, but I am in fact capable of simple of simple math. Now if you don't mind, let's stop with the algebra and get to the point, please!” 

“Fucking.” 

“What?” 

“You were fucking in here.” The anger on Jeonghan's face was gone, but now he looked stricken—like he'd just remembered some kind of horrific trauma, one that just happened to involve the noises of a  _ certain skater _ who may or may not have  _ had another certain skater’s cock in his ass.  _

“And not  _ only _ were you fucking, loudly might I add,” Jeonghan continued before Jihoon even had a chance to fully absorb the situation. “But neither of you bothered to clean your mess, so  _ I  _ had to wipe your cum off of the floor, not to mention the lube that was smeared on the locker, and disinfect the entire goddamn room! I mean, really, how did you make  _ full handprints  _ with lube?” 

Jihoon went sheet white, his jaw hanging ajar, and his cheeks slowly taking on a vibrant shade of red. His ears burned a similar color, tingling with embarrassment. Vaguely he wondered how bad it really was, how much was to be heard, how much was to be cleaned, But mostly, he wanted to choke. He wanted to just die right then and there. It would be better than facing Jeonghan after being caught in his raw. 

“I…. _ aehhhh?? _ ” It was meant to be an apology, it really was, but Jihoon’s pride and person were too broken to make it work. Jeonghan accepted it anyways, his expression softening, and his arm slinging around the younger’s shoulder. He pulled them both down onto the bench, giving Jihoon an extra pat as he leaned back against the cool metal. 

“I don't have an issue with you two fucking, but please, god, do it at home.” Jeonghan’s voice was a hint sympathetic. Maybe, he thought, he'd made too much of a scene, but on the other hand, cleaning up spunk isn't exactly the greatest way to end your day. “Or a hotel, or a restaurant, or literally anywhere but here.”

Jihoon nodded his understanding, lip curled defensively between his teeth. 

“Now that we've got that settled, I have to ask...what happened after?”

Jihoon pondered for a second. “We talked for a little while and then I went home.” 

Jeonghan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, eyebrows furrowing. “You just went home? You didn't go with him?”

“No, it was kind of just...a thing.” Jihoon shrugged. 

“You're not…together, then?”

Jihoon shook his head. “Not as of right now, no. I mean—is there—should we be?” He tilted his gaze to question Jeonghan, 

“Well, I was under the impression that that was what Seungcheol wanted.”

“Oh. Yeah...me too.” Jihoon’s arm drew nervously to his side, and his eyes fell to the floor. He felt a vague sadness, running hot in his chest, and cold in his fingertips, tinted with guilt and confusion. It was a mess, really, emotions jumbled up like strings, overlapping, intertwining.

Jeonghan offered a small smile. “You don’t know what to do with that, do you.”

“No.” 

“Think on it.”

“I do, Jeonghan. All the time,” Jihoon sighed.   

“So what’s stopping you?” 

He knew the answer, deep down, but digging it up was a task for another day—a day with less  _ literal pain in the ass.  _ “I just...I have some loose ends to tie up.”

Jeonghan’s smile grew larger, and a tinge of laughter hung in his voice. “That is complete and utter crap.”

“I know.” 

“Jihoon, if you want to find something real, you're going to have to open up a little before you can take this anywhere.” The elder eyed him softly, patting his knee with a gentle hand. “Not to me, maybe, but to him, at least.” 

Jeonghan’s hands were warm and gentle, but God was unrelenting and cruel, Jihoon decided, as Seungcheol came waltzing through the front door. He wondered what exactly it was that he had done to piss off the powers that be; he wondered why they would dangle Seungcheol right in front of him like this. He supposed he could think of plenty reason—but fuck that, this isn’t funny. 

“Speak of the devil,” Jihoon remarked, rolling his eyes at the brunette’s entry. It was smug and confident, but somehow kind, and frankly, Jihoon found that  _ disgusting.  _ Facetiously, of course. 

As he approached them, Seungcheol’s eyes became fond and adoring, taking in the sweet way Jihoon curled against lazed on the bench, the notes of crimson dotting his complexion; Jihoon was really a sight to be seen. Seungcheol couldn’t help but kiss him, hold the man’s cheeks in his hands and peck his lips. “Hi, honey bear.” His voice was almost a whisper, sending chills down Jihoon’s spine. “What are you doing here?”

Jeonghan was quick to interject, shooting daggers at Seungcheol. “I was scolding him about last night.” 

The eldest smirked knowingly. “So Jeonghan dragged you here on your day off to yell at you, did he?” 

“No, I just forgot my wallet here last night, and I ran into him on the way.” Jihoon pointed accusingly, cocking an eyebrow to match. “Why are  _ you  _ here?” 

Seungcheol fished behind the bench, pulling a black sweater from the floor. “Same reason, actually. I left my jacket.” 

Jihoon scoffed. “What a copycat.” 

“Maybe you copied me, huh?” Playfully, Seungcheol rustled Jihoon’s hair. “I need to get back home, but why don’t we grab something to eat tomorrow? There’s a pretty good seafood place just down the street if you’re interested.” 

Jihoon scratched his neck uncomfortably, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “Sorry Seungcheol, tomorrow isn’t a good day for me.” 

“That’s alright.” Seungcheol smiled, and Jihoon could feel his heart drop. “Another time, then?” 

“Y-yeah, sometime,” the blond mumbled. 

“Well, I guess I’ll quit pestering you and leave you to your business.” He pecked Jihoon’s cheek, and clapped Jeonghan’s shoulder, swiftly returning through the doors. 

Jihoon bit his tongue, regret bubbling up in his throat. He was an idiot, that much he knew, but everything else seemed cloudy. 

Jeonghan sighed, pulling Jihoon in for an embrace. His hands rubbed soothing circles in the younger’s back; Jihoon’s trembling didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re real bad at taking advice, you know.” 

 

….

 

Jihoon tugged his blanket back up to his shoulders, curling into its softness, and settled his arms around his pillow. It was cold—lonely—without someone there. He had never grown accustomed to having someone, and in fact, he was alone more often than not, to one exception. 

Seungcheol. 

He had taken to Jihoon, and stuck like glue, trailing behind him, staying at his side since they’d met. Jihoon missed him, felt empty without him, and subsequently denied feeling empty. But he was, and now, he couldn’t deny it anymore. 

He loved Seungcheol. 

His cheeks flushed at that thought.  _ Loving Seungcheol.  _ He was kind and handsome, and the way Jihoon felt about him was so  _ sickeningly  _ sweet that he almost couldn't believe himself. But there he was anyway, loving Seungcheol. 

As the heat in his cheeks continued to settle, Jihoon concluded that he'd been blushing a lot lately, like being flustered had almost become his normal state. It was odd to him, maybe even scary that his composure could crumble so easily, for reasons he either didn't know or couldn't admit; either way, it was disgustingly uncharacteristic. 

But so, he’d fallen, and he’d fallen hard. 

Fingers plucking at the pillow in his arms, he wondered if the same was true for Seungcheol. He wondered if the other’s heart leapt like his did; if the brunette’s head spun, too; he wondered if Seungcheol really loved him. He supposed so, he’d  _ like _ to believe it. But what if that was just another lie? If Seungcheol had been so willing to hurt him, could he really be in love? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back??? Hello this chapter isn't all that great, but it's finished now!


	7. The Dam Hath Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this??? is bad???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i wrote this in like 40 minutes   
> what the fukc   
> sorry   
> sORRY

In Jihoon’s opinion, _avoid_ was a very strong word. Because, you see, if Jihoon were _avoiding_ Seungcheol, then he would be sneaking around and lurking behind corners like it was some covert spy kinda shit, complete with walkie-talkies and the black clothes and lasers, and that’s not what was happening.  

In Seungcheol’s opinion, however, that’s exactly what was happening. 

In ten days they'd shared sixteen words— _ would, you, like, to, get, dinner, with, me—no—how, about, Sunday—no, thanks, I'm, busy.  _ At first Seungcheol chalked the words up to mean what they said, that Jihoon was simply busy and that he'd free up in time. But as time went on and Jihoon stayed  _ busy _ , the brunette grew agitated. As far as he knew, he and Jihoon were on good terms; they'd kissed, they'd fucked, they’d been some form of happy. But if that were true, why would Jihoon want to avoid him? 

Seungcheol figured that he'd have to ask, some way or another, if he wanted an answer. And so he waited at the rink’s front door, knowing full well Jihoon couldn't avoid it. 

The blond looked less than pleased to see him there, and combined with the natural sourness of being awake at 6 am, that made Jihoon look something like a monster. His hollow grimace and narrow eyes made the elder think twice about his plan; however, it wasn't enough to stop him. As Jihoon attempted to brush past, Seungcheol caught his arm, curling his fingers gently around the younger’s thin wrist. 

“Jihoon.” His voice was pleading, soft, and so very  _ Seungcheol,  _ complete with overbearing sincerity and a sweet morning husk. It struck Jihoon square in the chest, knocking the breath straight out of him. How a voice alone could hit so hard, he didn't know; he didn't want to imagine what the whole of Seungcheol could do to him.

God knows how that went the first time.

He didn't dare move, forward or back, neither was an option. He simply froze, consumed by the soft stroke of Seungcheol’s thumb against his hand. The elder studied him, a concoction of worry and irritation splayed on his features. Slowly he drew closer, eyes settled on Jihoon’s downcast ones. 

“What's going on with you? We haven't talked in over a week.” There wasn't a hint of anger in him, Seungcheol being ever a gentle giant. For a second Jihoon considered giving up and burrowing into him, curling his fingers into Seungcheol’s chest—God, that sounded fucking  _ divine _ —but he didn't deserve such divinity. Certainly not now. 

Jihoon sighed, turning only his head away from Seungcheol; he wasn't strong enough to shake from the brunette’s grip. “I just…I don't think this is a good idea.” 

“What isn't?” 

“Us.” 

Seungcheol sharply retracted his grip on Jihoon. His eyes widened, and he couldn't help but gape before bringing a hand to his lips and swallowing his remarks. His brow furrowed, and something inside of his  _ ached _ , unbearably so; the thought of losing Jihoon  _ scared _ him _ ,  _ as much as losing his own life. He wondered what about that fact surprised him. 

Nothing, he supposed. He was in love at the first sight of that man.

His expression softened, if just slightly. “You don’t owe me an explanation, but if I may, I'm asking why you've changed your mind all of the sudden.” 

“I'm just not ready to be in another relationship yet,” Jihoon said dryly, a most unconvincing actor. 

Seungcheol scoffed. “It’s been almost two months now, and not that I ‘know your business’ or anything, but you never seemed that upset over it.” 

“Well I was, okay?” 

Jihoon attempted to shake himself away, but the rise in his voice didn't go unnoticed by Seungcheol; it was defensive and skittish, pricking the elder’s nerves in a way that made him shudder with discomfort. 

A single finger curled behind Jihoon’s ear, soft and soothing, like a cherished blanket.“Jihoon, you broke up with him. It’s all behind you now, and you should be moving on, don't you think?” Those words sought to ease the blond, but they don't succeed, sharp temperaments still cutting through. 

“I know, Seungcheol,” Jihoon growled. 

“This isn't healthy.” 

“I  _ know _ .” 

“So then why are you—”

“Because I didn't dump him!” Jihoon shouted, yanking himself away from Seungcheol. Everything seemed so quiet, but at the same time, so unbearably loud; his chest heaved with each hard breath, and his eyes threatened to overflow with tears. He knew Seungcheol was staring, of course he was—watching and waiting—but Jihoon couldn't face him. He clawed at his wrist absently, digging for the strength to say something, to scream, to hit something, to _ move  _ but there was simply too much in his head. Three words were all he could muster. 

“He dumped me.”

Admitting that stung, like it were some kind of failure.  _ Failure,  _ add that to the list of emotions to drown in. Sadness, fear, hurt, anger, failure; he wondered which one would pull him underwater first. 

“He told me I wasn't a good partner. He said I held back too much, that I didn't love him right, t-that all I was ever doing was hurting him. And you know what? He was right. I hurt him.” 

“Jihoon…” It was hard to watch—Jihoon in pieces, fumbling and stumbling and throwing himself down, as if it were all he knew how to do. 

“I can't hurt you too, Seungcheol. I’m  _ afraid  _ of hurting you,” Jihoon choked, finally raising his eyes to meet Seungcheol’s. Tears dribbled down his cheeks, glistening in the early morning light. Some part of that was beautiful, Seungcheol thought, but nothing had ever hurt so god damn much.

“Even though you've lied to me, even though I was hurt over it, I still—I just—I want to be good for you and I can't—I—” It was getting harder to speak, Jihoon’s mouth outpacing his head. “This is so fucked up, isn't it? T-that you could do that to me, and still, all I care about is how I can be better for you. I'm so afraid I  _ can't _ be that I-I don't even have any energy left to care about myself. I keep thinking about it, and I don't know how to fix it, and it doesn't even make sense anymore, and I—” 

Seungcheol moved from where he stood and kneeled before Jihoon; he took the man’s trembling hands in his own, kissing each one with only the most tender of lips. He held them steady, eyes focused on the younger’s. 

“Just because you hurt someone else doesn't mean you deserve to be hurt, too. Jihoon, this isn't some kind of game of revenge where I get to hurt you because you hurt someone else.” He paused for a moment, regret weighing heavy on his heart. “You should care. You should care that I hurt you, you should care for yourself. Not your ex, not me, not anyone around you. Just you, above all else.”

Jihoon had a hard time processing this—and with good reason, of course—but he wanted to believe it. Every fiber of him wanted to matter, wanted to be somebody worthy, but he simply  _ wasn't.  _ He  _ wasn't,  _ he knew that, but he  _ wanted  _ to be. He would  _ pretend  _ to be, at the very least.

The elder continued, tugging Jihoon forward another step, letting that honey sweet voice trickle into his ears. 

“Don’t think about who you hurt in the past, or what mistakes you’re scared of making with me. Think about how  _ you _ feel. What  _ you _ want. Are you mad at me? Are you upset over your ex? Do you need to take a break? What's the best thing you can do for  _ you? _ ”

There was plenty he felt. Too much, in fact, and it was hard to put a finger on exactly what he wanted to do. He was broken, he was scared, and he was  _ seething;  _ his body decided for him which of those he would act on, and before he knew it, he was smacking a clenched first right into Seungcheol’s cheek. 

There was a second of shock. Wirey, silent shock. Jihoon didn't regret that, no, but he was stunned, as if the blow had hit him, too. He could only stare, at the way Seungcheol’s wide eyes gazed so absently at the concrete, the way he seemed to teeter ever so slightly. It seemed like a decade before the man finally moved, dragging the back of his hand slowly across his mouth and blinking twice. 

“Okay,” he mused. “That's…a start.” 

The tension had broken and Jihoon had broken with it, dropping to his knees and plunging into Seungcheol’s arms. Everything seemed to rush out, now, in tears and broken sobs; he let his burdens go, and Seungcheol took them. 

“There we go. Let it all out.” 


	8. A Warm Haven

“It’s not that simple.”

Seungcheol struggles to hold in a laugh as he watched Jihoon glare at his menu, arms crossed and brows creased. If Seungcheol didn’t know better, he’d think the man were a child.

“What do you mean it’s not that simple? All you have to do is say which food you want, and bam, it’s yours.”

Jihoon huffed, throwing his hands in the air. “Everything here is really fancy! What is...cru... _crudités?_ Why couldn’t we just go to the family restaurant near the rink?”

“I wanted to take you somewhere nice,” the brunette offered, letting a chuckle escape his lips. “To make up for it all. Think of is as our fresh start. You...and the real me.”

God, the _fondness_ in that. Jihoon thought he should have been used to it by now, the sincerity and the sweetness; they should've been no more than a novelty to him anymore. But yet, they were the cogs and springs in his little body, they very things that made his heart beat and his mind think. The things that made him tick. It was as if he had a key in his back, and Seungcheol could simply wind him up and make him go.

His eyes flicked up with that glimmer that only Seungcheol could ignite, and studied him. The dimples settled in his cheeks, the appley blush on his fair skin, the incomparable gleam in those doe eyes of his.

If this was the real Seungcheol, then he was _more_ than ready for a fresh start.

“...Okay. But you have to order for me.”

Seungcheol obliged, pandering to Jihoon’s requests almost to the point of spoon feeding the blond. He would’ve had no problem with it—it was Jihoon who declined the offer.

In Seungcheol’s mind, dinner was more perfect than he could’ve imagined it to be. He loved every second of watching a Jihoon eat, watching him speak, watching him move. The drive home was just as lovely, the two screeching their hearts out to the songs on the radio. Nothing in Seungcheol’s life had been quite this pure.

And now, Jihoon was perched on his lap, hair was silky between Seungcheol’s fingers, and his body warm against the man’s legs.

“I can’t believe they were just a bowl of fucking carrot sticks,” he pouted, fiddling with the buttons on his blazer.

Seungcheol snorted. “You’re the one who wanted them!”

“Can you blame me? _Crudités_ doesn’t sound like carrots, it sounds like….chicken! Roasted chicken.”

Something about that dumb idea was endearing, Seungcheol thought. He’d have to remember that. “Unfortunately for you, it’s not. You should’ve listened when I tried to tell you what they were.” He placed a soft kiss to Jihoon’s temple, relishing in the ease of it all. It was so different from just days ago—there was no stress, no secrets, no worries. Just innocence and love, as far as Seungcheol could tell.

“Jihoon?”

“Yes?”

Shit, there it was again. That innocence, settled atop Jihoon’s cheeks.

“Lie down with me.” A gentle hand guided the blond until his back lay flat against the couch, his hair sprawled out in a halo around his head. It was incredibly fitting. Seungcheol leaned over top of him, taking Jihoon’s lips into his own with a certain softness that was everything he wanted to be. He wanted to be tender. He wanted to love. He wanted to touch. He wanted to give Jihoon his best and nothing less. Slowly, his fingers curled around Jihoon’s jaw, thumb pressed into the skin of the blond’s cheek.

“You…” Jihoon sighed. “Feel good.” He snuggled his hips against Seungcheol’s knee and wrapped his arms around the elder’s waist, pulling their bodies together. He could feel the slight twitch of Seungcheol’s muscle under his fingers. The man’s back was unusually defined, even for a skater. “I know I’ve said this before, but I really like your back.”

All Seungcheol offered was a content hum, settling further against Jihoon.

“...I wish we could’ve done this sooner. Being like this.”

The ache wasn’t strong, but Seungcheol felt it. The ache of guilt. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Jihoon opened his eyes, staring lazily past Seungcheol and up to the ceiling. “Don’t be. You already were. And now we’re gonna do things the right way, right?”

“Yeah.”

…

The rink was very cold compared to the haven of Seungcheol’s arms. Jihoon had never really realized the contrast until this morning, when the two were thrust at him side by side. Waking up to the friendly scratch of fingernails against his scalp and Seungcheol’s morning breath on his forehead is something that he’d never experienced, and he could’ve stayed like that for an eternity. Alas, the ice waited for them. Seungcheol wouldn’t let him forget that.

{ [music](https://soundcloud.com/nishikinoki/csc-the-silver-spoon) }

The elder was eager to practice, not seeming to feel the same pinch that Jihoon did on his skin. He took the shape of his music, like a ribbon, twirling and curling through the air without a trace of hesitation. He was so dainty for someone so masculine, but that masculinity was only the surface, Jihoon knew. When it came down to it, Seungcheol was definitely the more feminine of the two. It was sweet.

Jihoon was content with watching that sweetness until he felt warm again. _Triple toe. Double Axel. Triple loop._ He didn’t recognize this particular program. “What’s this one for? Neither of us are even competing this year.”

 _Quadruple Lutz. Ladyback spin._ “Wrong,” Seungcheol managed, sliding into a step sequence.

“Nothing _big,”_ Jihoon corrected. His eyes followed Seungcheol around the rink. He was making circles, now, arms at his sides.

 _“_ Are you saying I should slack just because I’ve got to work my way into qualifiers again? Or are you saying I should slack so you have a chance at winning?”

Jihoon could _hear_ that shit-eating grin, could see in his head the curve of Seungcheol’s lips. “Oh, you _wish._ But seriously, is all of this really just for local stuff? It’s kind of...extra.” In reality, Jihoon was growing nervous. His program for the start of this season wasn’t a _drab_ , but it wasn’t what _Seungcheol_ was doing, either. Coming out of a hiatus would be difficult—practicing jumps isn’t the same as doing them in front of thousands of people.

Seungcheol came to a stop in the center of the rink, emphatically throwing his wrist against his forehead. “I was planning on skating this program throughout the whole season. You know, like most people do?”

“I mean, that’s kind of what I was doing, but I...I need to work my way back up, you know?”

“You’re just fine, Jihoon. Don’t listen to Seungcheol, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Ever.” Jeonghan backed his way through the storage room door, arms heavy with boxes. “And _you!_ Look at that ugly mug! Jihoon really _did_ hit you! Little guy packs a punch.”

Two rather offended voices barked back at him.

_“Ugly?!”_

_“Little?”_

Jeonghan didn’t concern himself with replying, opting just to finish his job instead.

“You had better watch yourself! I'm wearing knife shoes, you know!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, bitch


End file.
